This time Knox answered. ‘Not what we thought.’

‘How reassuring,’ Holland replied, returning the chamois to its home. ‘Care to elaborate?’

Knox explained what he’d discovered in Victoria, going into a little more detail than had made it into his official report.

‘I trust you told him to put a stop to it,’ Holland said, when he was done.

‘Should I have?’

‘The Americans will certainly think so.’

‘They were scared Northcott was working for the Russians. He isn’t. I don’t think whatever else he gets up to is any of our business.’

‘They’ll disagree,’ Holland said.

‘I’m sure,’ Knox replied. ‘But with respect to the Americans, if they’re that concerned about losing a few unwilling conscripts then they can revoke his landing permit.’

Holland huffed in response, acknowledging that the Northcott affair had been a waste of time, and so would any further discussion about it. Time, Knox thought a little bitterly, that Holland might not have to spare.

Leconfield House was a palace of secrets, and rumours. The most recent one was that Holland was thinking about retiring. The idea had seemed ludicrous to Knox when he’d overheard it, muttered between two junior agents who hadn’t realised he was in earshot. Holland had been in charge of the Service for less than a decade, and he was still relatively young. There was also plenty going on at home and across the Commonwealth that meant it wasn’t time for him to take his hands off MI5’s reins. And, on top of all that, Holland hadn’t said anything about it to Knox himself. But the weary second-guessing that the Cold War had drilled into so much of Knox’s life had left him wondering more and more if there wasn’t some truth in the gossip; and, if there was, why hadn’t Holland discussed it with the man who was supposed to be one of his closest and most trusted advisers?

The possibility of a Leconfield House without Holland irritated Knox. It also made him question his own shelf life as a spy. Maybe their joint future was the second thing the director general wanted to discuss. Knox doubted it. The first folder on Holland’s desk was for Knox’s mission to Canada. The second would be for his next one. Knox was loyal to his mentor. He would always do what Holland told him to and go wherever he was sent, no matter what or where. But he could feel a prick of nerves as he glanced at the desk again. He had no desire to get straight back on another plane. However, after an un­characteristic moment of silence, he bit the bullet.

‘How are things in Harare?’ he asked.

‘A mess,’ Holland replied.

‘Any sign that Moscow’s involved?’